The Weeknd - Dawn FM

  • On what might be the best album yet, The Weeknd dives head-first into '80s synth pop and post-punk for a concept LP about a radio station in purgatory.
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  • In the decade since Abel Tesfaye paved the way for a new kind of R&B star, his many imitators are stuck trying to recreate the drug-induced haze that made Trilogy such a turning point in the genre. Meanwhile, the man in question has been looking the other way, travelling back in time and embracing vintage synth pop. From 2016's Starboy to the beaten and bruised protagonist of 2020s After Hours, Tesfaye's tendency towards concept albums and enigmatic personas have traditionally been hit or miss. But his latest album Dawn FM, is a synth pop divine comedy that steps beyond cheap '80s imitation and into something with a whole lot more purpose. According to Tesfaye, Dawn FM is the second entry in an entirely new trilogy. The story, so far, is as follows: our protagonist has succumbed to injuries sustained during his previous album, After Hours. Now he finds himself in purgatory, old and withered from a life of unchecked self-destruction. The visual metaphor used for this purgatory is a long traffic jammed tunnel, you’re approaching a light at the end of it waiting to cross over while a radio station plays 103.5 Dawn-FM. Throughout, a radio DJ is guiding you through your transition into the light. The radio DJ in this neon-lit purgatory is none other than Tesfaye's real-life neighbor and fellow Canadian Jim Carrey. Conveniently for Tesfaye, this zone between life and death is '80s themed, an era he now navigates with remarkable ease. Production-wise, Tesfaye once again employs the talents of warped auteur Oneohtrix Point Never and legendary pop producer Max Martin. The duo conjure a retro-futuristic sound that fits snugly into the purgatory concept—a place where time as a concept is arbitrary—allowing Tesfaye to pull off the Depeche Mode-inspired "Gasoline" while making it sound like a stroke of innovative genius. Tesfaye sounds zombie-like on here, delivering outright nihilism (literally—he sings "I'm nihilist") in a curt, lower-than-usual register, taking the kind of risk someone of his status usually wouldn't. The payoff is mesmerizing. Dawn FM is loaded with a-ha moments like that, and the album's seamless, radio station-inspired sequencing makes every one hit harder. "Sacrifice" is an adrenaline-fuelled serving of electro-pop, where, over stabbing chords and whiplash guitar licks, Tesfaye wrestles with the cost of embracing someone's love compared to sacrificing it for "more of the night." Heard outside the context of the album, lead single "Take My Breath" felt like a weak impersonation of Kavinsky. The album's extended version gives it enough breathing room to become Dawn FM's star-studded core, as the glitzy arpeggio lines pulse into a driving outro that never takes its foot off of the gas. On Dawn FM, Tesfaye is either looking back in shame or looking to the future and "obsessing over aftermaths / apocalypse and hopelessness" ("Gasoline"). "Phantom Regret"—Jim Carrey's spoken word piece on reaching heaven—contains the lesson learned from Tesfaye's failed quest for peace: "Heaven's for those who let go of regret." As far as character arcs go, he's still a nihilist riddled with regrets, even while submerged in the natural light at the end of Dawn FM's neon-lit tunnel. "No, I can't shake this feeling that crawls in my bed" mourns Tesfaye over the anthemic and genuinely heartbreaking "Less Than Zero." In the middle of the album, "A Tale By Quincy" features legendary producer Quincy Jones delivering a regret-filled monolog about how tragedy during his upbringing handicapped his ability to love. It comes off as The Weeknd's version of "Giorgio By Moroder," a coronation of sorts from an artist who blew the winds that steered Tesfaye's boat. Gone are the days where The Weeknd would throw Trilogy fans a bone to say he's still in touch with his roots, or do a tacky Ed Sheeran collaboration to seduce casual listeners. With Dawn FM you get the sense that it's strictly his vision from start to finish, the actualisation of a sound he's been hitting and missing for years. It's invigorating, vulnerable and, at times, uncomfortably raw. Beneath the tragedy of hearing someone profess that they'll "always be less than zero," there's a rugged self-awareness that comes with him realizing he can't retrospectively change his fate, something that makes Dawn FM the most mature he's ever sounded.
  • Tracklist
      01. Dawn FM 02. Gasoline 03. How Do I Make You Love Me? 04. Take My Breath 05. Sacrifice 06. A Tale By Quincy 07. Out Of Time 08. Here We Go... Again feat. Tyler, The Creator 09. Best Friends 10. Is There Someone Else? 11. Starry Eyes 12. Every Angel Is Terrifying 13. Don't Break My Heart 14. I Heard You're Married feat. Lil Wayne 15. Less Than Zero 16. Phantom Regret By Jim
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